


He Wears Death Like Prada

by midnightflame



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood and Injury, But that bromance may be something else, Inspired by Fanart, Jealousy hits Shiro like a truck in these things, Kuro is really a Shiro clone who enjoys fucking with his original, Lance/Kuro bromance, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 11:36:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10639044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightflame/pseuds/midnightflame
Summary: “Don’t be intimidated by my bloody and battered figure.”Those words come out smooth as well-aged malt whiskey, the smirk riding high over Kuro’s lips providing the added bite. He’s propped up against the door to the lounge, with arms folded over his chest and gaze drifting over its occupants with all the languidness of a man who has sinned and has absolutely no intention of repenting. So comfortable in his own deviant past that it may as well have been a second skin.[Or basically the prompt follow-up to 'This is not the death promised to me' based upon@theprojectava's Kuro!]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the follow-up to the previous Kuro misadventure, with the prompt of: "Don’t be intimidated by my bloody and battered figure." I am still hopelessly in love with Kuro and all his antics and how he makes himself right at home with the Voltron crew. I hope you all continue to enjoy his adventures, and as before you can find [@theprojectava](https://tmblr.co/mR-t8hQhcbS3CsiIxJMO9GQ)'s Kuro comics and images here: [here](https://theprojectava.tumblr.com/post/158832788093/bonus-just-sketchy-because-i-am-a-lazy-human) and [here](https://theprojectava.tumblr.com/post/158638997638/bonus-the-adventures-of-kuro-oh-my-god-this), but her tumblr is full of questions and answers about him as well and I highly recommend you all take part because they are fantastic!

“Don’t be intimidated by my bloody and battered figure.”

Those words come out smooth as well-aged malt whiskey, the smirk riding high over Kuro’s lips providing the added bite. He’s propped up against the door to the lounge, with arms folded over his chest and gaze drifting over its occupants with all the languidness of a man who has sinned and has absolutely no intention of repenting. So comfortable in his own deviant past that it may as well have been a second skin.

Though he knows enough to know that there is something _not quite right_ in the things he had done to bring him to his current state. But he also knows that there are certain games to be played and that those are all the better part of life in the castle. 

“The _fuck_ , dude?!”

Kuro lets his gaze settle on Lance, who has pushed himself up from the couch and is pointing at Kuro like he’s the ghost Lance claims still haunting the darker parts of the castle. Ten-thousand-year-old history and all that – something had to be lingering in the shadows of this place, right? Kuro had yet to discover anything like it (and he had tried looking quite avidly one night because Lance had been that insistent on its existence after the lights suddenly went out on him in the shower and Kuro had felt fairly certain he could take on a ghost or whatever the hell it was if it was for Lance’s sake). Honestly though, if you asked him the only thing _really_ haunting the ship was Pidge’s robotic thingawhatever. 

If you wanted to talk about real horrors…

Ah, but a thought for another time. Because Kuro almost likes the way Lance’s jaw has dropped and the worry has consumed his gaze. It makes him look… _amazing_.

“I said don’t worry about it,” Kuro practically purrs, smirk spilling into a remorseless grin. “Besides, I make this look good.”

“There’s like…that’s blood.” Lance gestures in the air before him, hand bobbing up and down like a confused military pledge, where _yes sir_ is almost always the right answer to be giving. “That’s blood, right? It’s like…why would you even go walking around with that all over your shirt?!”

Kuro glances down the front of him, where there is indeed a fair amount of red-going-brown staining his top. He can feel it crusting along his neck, and there’s a tight pull over the corner of his mouth where he knows his lip had been split open. But he’s still looking at Lance, still grinning like he’s the best thing that ever walked onto this ship.

A trick Lance had actually taught him, among so many. _Walk into a place like you own it and no one will ever question you._

“And your eye – have you even looked in a mirror?!”

“Don’t need to look when I know I look good.”

“No, bro – trust me, you gotta do something about this. It’s just terrifying. Like horror-movie-bait freaky.”

An eyebrow quirks upward at that, followed by a quizzical tilt of his head

“…Horror movies?” Lance rolls his wrist, hoping to reel in some sort of acknowledgment on the topic from Shiro’s other half. “They’re just - never mind! What the fuck happened?!”

Kuro blinks at Lance as the explanation gets shoved into the realm of _another time_. He makes a point to ask him later though, about this horror whatever. If it was good enough to spill a shiver down Lance’s spine at its mention, it was more than good enough for Kuro to know something about it. Maybe utilize this ‘horror movie’ to his better advantage.

A man should always be thinking about potentials, right? 

But back to the question he can actually address. Or rather – 

Keith is sitting on the couch, expression flat, eyes pitiless as he takes in the sight of Kuro, to which Kuro makes the decided effort of flashing him a smile, wide and bright and so full of _and not a shit was given_ he thinks it might just burst at the seams and have him spilling blood down his chin all over again. The good thing about Lance, however, is that he can be surprisingly quick on the uptake, and every bit of concern he had held for Kuro’s current battered state is burned right down to the ground, with burgeoning fury putting the heat to his next words.

“ _You_? You did that to him? What the fuck, man?!”

“He pretty much begged for it!”

“Oh yeah, like he just waltzed in there and asked for you to beat the– “

“He basically did actually!”  


Keith is on his feet now, going toe-to-toe with Lance, hands tight fists hanging at his sides, seemingly weightless, bereft of any true intent towards use. Kuro finds himself grinning at the sight, taking in the scene (Lance had told him he could learn a lot about the world by watching the Paladins interact) and all its posturing before he pushes himself away from the door and casually slides himself in between the two would-be battle contestants. 

“I’m fine though.”

“You are not fine! You’re a hot mess of something else!” Lance spits out as he pokes an index finger into the airspace around Keith’s chest  


“He came into my room and – “

But Keith doesn’t finish that. Instead, his cheeks flare red as a summer sunset’s farewell, his lips parted but the words hovering silent over his tongue. 

“He _what_ , Keith?” Lance prods caustically, arms finally giving up striking the air and folding in over his chest.

“I just touched him.”

“He touched me,” Keith confirms with a sharp nod and a glare at Kuro that isn’t so much a glare as it is a wanna-be declaration of disapproval. 

Kuro has come to find that Keith finds it very hard to stay mad at him. He considers it one of the great favors granted to him by his face. 

“So? Kuro touches me all the time. We’re _bros_. Sometimes bros touch…”

“ _Bros_ don’t feel each other up.”

Lance’s mouth gains an odd little twist to it at that retort. 

Kuro tips his head to the side. “Yeah, I touch him all the time.”

“See? Bro moment.” Something grateful works its way into Lance’s gaze at that, softening his expression and kicking up this strange bit of sensation in Kuro’s core. Like someone decided that was the best moment to release a thousand cobras in his gut. He thinks they bite; Lance said they bite. Maybe he’s going to die, but Lance is back at it, rolling his head back with this smug smirk roosting in the corner of his mouth, his chest puffed out. “Get with the program, Keith.”

“Get with the program,” Kuro mimics, tossing around that self-satisfied grin once more. The fluttering in his core is gone. Maybe he’s not going to die then.

Keith exhales heavily, index finger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose. “I hate you both.”

“You mean you love us.” 

“Love who exactly?” 

Kuro’s expression drops for a moment as Shiro enters the room, with an eyebrow lifted and stare directed pointedly to where Kuro is standing, just a step closer to Keith than Lance now. He doesn’t know when he took that slide over, but it had happened. Something like instinct kicking in. And then, a light flickers to life inside of his head, and the gears start whirring as memory sparks to life. Kuro drapes an arm around Keith’s shoulders with all the nonchalant grace of a cat claiming the back of a couch as his personal throne. 

Keith gives his shoulder a slight roll but doesn’t try to dislodge the arm settled there.

“Me,” Kuro finally answers, shameless as sin on Sunday.

“I mean, he’s not terrible. Most of the time,” Keith murmurs. He’s not looking at Shiro.

Kuro takes the point given to him and leans a little more heavily on his arm, causing Keith, in turn, to put more structure into the set of his shoulders. 

“Uh-huh.” Shiro hums out. His gaze is still burning holes right through Kuro’s intentions. Honestly, he thought it would have been easier to buy Shiro’s forgiveness than it would have been to plead for Keith’s, but strange things did tend to happen when it came to human affairs, and this turn of events has Kuro grinning like a bandit once again. 

He tips his head closer to Keith’s. Shiro folds his arms across his chest, eyes narrowing.

“See? He’s already forgiven me.”

“There’s blood all over you still. Maybe you should go wash up.” 

Shiro’s words are treading Arctic waters, but they have Kuro’s lips curving smoother still, not a trace of chill working its way through his figure. His gaze locks on Shiro’s and he cants his head, bringing his mouth another fraction of an inch closer to Keith’s cheek.

“First warning, Kuro.”

Keith’s eyebrow lifts at that, a frown troubling his lips. “Shiro…Enough already. We’re over it.”

Kuro’s grin toes borderline ruthless in response. 

“Shiro, man – you okay there? Your eye is. . twitching or something…” Lance points out. And there is something like fear sidling up with worry in his tone. 

Shiro’s mouth pulls tight as a lion’s death-sentencing bite. Lips part only when Kuro’s tongue touches the tip of a canine. 

“Kuro, I swear if you so much as – “

“Shiro! It’s fine, he’s just…being him. I’m – “

And there it is, the sort of shock that sinks a room with silence. Kuro has his gaze locked without remorse on Shiro as he runs his tongue along the side of Keith’s face, from the curve of jaw to temple. 

Lance drags a palm down over his face, a groan slipping through his fingers. “Dude, you did not just…we talked about this!”

“I’m going to kill him.”

“Shiro, just…calm down…”

“Keith, I gave him fair warning.”

“Five-second head start rule!” Lance shouts as Shiro takes the first step, heavy with menace, towards the three of them. 

Kuro breaks from Keith with a laugh, leaping over the couch, then backpedaling across the room with his middle fingers raised. It’s the best _come hither_ he can think of issuing to Shiro. “I only need three!”

“Famous last words,” Keith mutters, the pity drained once more from his voice.

Lance simply watches as Shiro takes the couch like an Olympic-level hurdler, something almost forlorn creeping into his expression.

“So, should we prep the med bay or what?”


End file.
